"Neither; but oh! such a gross, lethargic toad! And it almost leaped
upon me."

"A toad leaped upon thee!" repeated the good father with evident
vexation. "What next? I tell thee, child, those foolish fears are most
unmeet for thee, and must be overcome, if necessary, with prayer and
penance. Frightened by a toad! Blood of the Martyrs! 'Tis like any
foolish girl!"

Father Pedro stopped and coughed.

"I am saying that no Christian child should shrink from any of God's
harmless creatures. And only last week thou wast disdainful of poor
Murieta's pig, forgetting that San Antonio himself did elect one his
faithful companion, even in glory."

"Yes, but it was so fat, and so uncleanly, holy father," replied the
young acolyte, "and it smelt so."

"Smelt so?" echoed the father doubtfully. "Have a care, child, that this
is not luxuriousness of the senses. I have noticed of late you gather
overmuch of roses and syringa, excellent in their way and in moderation,
but still not to be compared with the flower of Holy Church, the lily."

"But lilies don't look well on the refectory table, and against the
adobe wall," returned the acolyte, with a pout of a spoilt child; "and
surely the flowers cannot help being sweet, any more than myrrh or
incense. And I am not frightened of the heathen Americanos either NOW.
There was a small one in the garden yesterday, a boy like me, and he
spoke kindly and with a pleasant face."